


Heaven in Hell's Pass

by Anonymous



Category: South Park
Genre: Dom Butters, Dom/sub, Drugged Sex, Hospitals, M/M, Medical Kink, Sub Kenny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 14:43:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14750844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Kenny wakes up in Hell's Pass Hospital with no recollection of how he got there. Nurse Butters stops by after his shift finishes, but doesn't bring the clarity or comfort Kenny expects.





	Heaven in Hell's Pass

**Author's Note:**

> this took me a couple weeks to hammer out but i will have a lot of free time this weekend so expect the second part soon
> 
> glad to be back with dom butters. got any ideas you want to see these two in? down to switch but there's such a lack of this particular dynamic i love to write it

Kenny didn’t know if he was alive, but he knew he wasn’t dead. If he was dead, he wouldn’t have woken up to a numbing cocoon of darkness. He couldn’t feel any particular part of his body. He felt like a big staticky lump without pain receptors or nerve endings.

If you’re alive, you’re breathing. Kenny took a breath and realized he had a plastic cannula feeding him oxygen.

Shock sent his legs jerking underneath a heavy cotton duvet. The bare skin of his arms rubbed against mattress sheets; a plastic bracelet was on his wrist, and a thin gown slid down his shoulder.

Kenny was alive, in the hospital, Hell’s Pass. Hell’s passed on him, this time. Kenny didn’t remember what got him here, or what saved his life.

More prominent pains began to show themselves. Generally around his chest and sides. Broken ribs? It didn’t make a difference.

Far away, Kenny heard a door click open. His eyelids weighed a thousand pounds. When they finally opened, his vision swam watery and dark.

Someone whispered. “Kenny? Are you awake?”

A blue uniformed figure walked forward.

Kenny turned his head.

The movement sent his brain wheeling, and he shut his eyes against his pillow to wait out the vertigo.

“Here, Ken.”

A plastic bowl was placed in his hands. Oh, God. “Not puking,” he grated out. The suggestion made his stomach turn.

“Do you want water?”

Kenny nodded.

Soft footsteps padded around the bed. A faucet ran, then stopped. Soon a cool hand was at the back of his head, encouraging him to lift his shoulders up.

“Not all the way—there—”

His parched lips sought the rim of the cup and he drank greedily. Fingers threaded through his hair to still his head. The cup was moved away.

“Slow down. It’s okay.”

Kenny wanted to look and see who was speaking to him. But he heard the IV drip rattle against its pole as it was drawn closer for a refill, and fell asleep while pain medication swept through his system once more.

He awoke much later, in more pain with the sun warm on his skin. The duvet was folded down to his waist, allowing natural sunlight to take its place on top of his abdomen and chest.

It was still as hard to open his eyes, but with the pain clearer it was easier to focus. The blinds were half-drawn and cast black bars over his legs. He was alone in the room, the parallel hospital bed unoccupied.

He remembered the nurse from his dream and smacked his lips. They weren’t any less than very dry.

The door opened.

Kenny sat up to greet his visitor, despite protesting injuries. He hated doctors always acting like he’d never been grievously injured, never almost died, or never died period. Of course, the reality was beyond their knowledge. Kenny still hated them for their obliviousness.

But instead of a doctor, the same nurse from his dream walked in, wearing the same blue scrubs. An ID badge was clipped to his jacket pocket, along with a Hello Kitty pen—Kenny knew the nurse’s pockets also bulged with candies, a pack of Marlboro menthol cigarettes, and a little notepad. How did he know that?

Some deep intuition made him glance at his food tray for the first time. All it offered was an empty water bottle and loose piece of paper, ripped out from a little notepad. Love you, it said with a smiley face and flower.

Kenny looked up again in realization. “Butters!”

The nurse—Butters—it was Butters—laughed as he reached Kenny’s bedside. “You’re really awake now, aren’t you?”

Unmindful of the needles and bandaids, Kenny reached up to grasp Butters’ hand and squeezed.

Butters squeezed back. Butters was here, real—and Kenny was alive.

Kenny laid back down, sinking into the mattress with relief. Butters retracted his hand.

“Now that you’re up, do you hurt? I could get more medicine—”

“No,” Kenny said, “I don’t care. I don’t want to go to sleep again. It’s fine.”

His vision slowly clearing, he witnessed Butters’ features as if for the first time. But somewhere deep inside, his brain had already etched their memory and everything slotted into place: an apple face, small chin, freckled cheeks, wide mouth, and two blue eyes—one bilaterally scarred.

Butters’ was tall and lithe with the gait of a strong gazelle. He moved around the hospital bed like a body builder turned ballerina. Through the fabric of his scrubs, Kenny saw big shoulders, bulging biceps, and thick thighs. Butters stopped at Kenny’s bedside and gracefully smoothed the duvet with his big, capable hands.

When had Butters gotten so big? Kenny’s subconscious exclusively remembered him as a cute, plump, pubescent boy as awkward as Kenny but twice as beautiful. Faced with Butters’ current stature, Kenny’s memory finally supplemented his gobsmacked disbelief.

Something about Scott and Linda enlisting him to boot camp after high school—which Butters’ was obedient enough for—and infantry—which Butters’ was too soft for. He became a medic instead, using his new, big body to heal his comrades, fearless in the service of others. Vague years of homecoming, his parents’ separate suicides, and community college filled in the gap between then and now.

“Kenny?”

Butters looked at him with mild concern.

“Are you okay?”

Kenny wondered how long he’d fallen silent.

Butters touched his leg above the blanket. Kenny suddenly wanted the blanket off, to feel Butters’ hand against his bare ankle. His legs went kicking.

“Whoa! You must be hot—”

Butters folded the duvet away to the foot of the bed. Each of his hands cupped around Kenny’s legs, the entire shin and calf. He began rubbing them up and down, bent over the lower end of the bed, eyes turned to Kenny’s face.

“That better?”

He smacked Kenny’s knees, then removed his hands to go patter around again. Kenny huffed in frustration. His mind was too addled to conjure complete thoughts. Even if it wasn’t, his throat would be too dry to voice them. Come hold me, he wanted to say.

Earlier, Butters had given him water. That wasn’t a dream.

“Hey,” Kenny said. His voice was a raspy croak.

Across the room Butters twirled to attention, lowering a clipboard. His fists twitched together; the movement was aborted before contact was made. “What’s wrong?”

“Water.”

“You’re thirsty?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” Butters dropped his hands to his sides and amiably loped to the sink. “Why didn’t you say so?”

After Kenny struggled to sit up on his pillows, he not have the energy left to retort. Instead he shook his hair out and craned his neck back, waiting to feel Butters’ touch.

Butters returned with a new glass of water. He held it out at half an arm’s length.

“Here.”

Kenny frowned.

Butters raised his eyebrows. “What?”

So now Kenny was expected to have fine motor skills? He’d rather be half-unconscious again, if it meant Butters would pamper him. He took the cup anyway and downed it all in one go.

“You’re going to get sick,” Butters chastised, taking the empty glass. He glanced at the door.

God, what was with him? What was making him so nervous? Kenny was in front of him, alive and responsive. What else did he want?

Kenny scowled and crossed his arms. “Dope me up,” he said.

“I can’t,” Butters said, suddenly smiling. “It’s seven.”

Seven in the morning. Kenny was going back to bed. He made to turn around on his side, but Butters caught him by his shoulders and held him still.

“I’m off the clock,” Butters whispered conspiratorially. “They won’t check on you till all’uh day shift is here.”

“Oh.” Kenny didn’t know what that meant. He just liked the weight of Butters’ against him.

“Move over,” Butters said, standing back.

Kenny obliged, lifting his arms so the cords and tubes wouldn’t get tangled in the rustled sheets. He felt like a crazy puppeteer and started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Butters said, shimmying around next to him in bed. “You really don’t need anymore meds. Come here.”

Kenny quieted down and turned into Butters’ strong Captain America chest. The Hello Kitty pen and ID badge clipped to his breastpocket cut into Kenny’s right cheek.

They laid like that for a few minutes. Butters started humming and played with Kenny’s hair. It was shaggy as ever, getting longer with the darker days around this time of year. The color had changed from sunlit blonde to autumn’s mustard yellow. In the winter it was almost brown, and sandy in the spring.

“M’gonna fall asleep,” Kenny mumbled.

“Aw,” Butters said. “You can if you want. But. Well—”

“What?” Kenny asked.

“D’you remember, um, talking to me about something the other night?”

“Ugh,” Kenny groaned. “I can’t think right now.”

“It’s okay. I wore that nurse outfit.”

A lightbulb went on then shattered in Kenny’s brain. Of course. That baby pink little lingerie number, with the old-school button dress and nurse hat.

“What did I say?” he asked.

“You wanted me to fuck you the next time you were in the hospital.”

“Oh,” Kenny whispered.

Butters rolled his eyes. “And I said you better not get all hurt again mister! But look where we are now.”

“Do you have the outfit?”

“No, just my real nurse uniform.”

Kenny hummed. “Still sexy.”

Butters sat up. “I have to check your vitals.”

“What?” Kenny frowned, falling back onto the pillows.

Butters put on a pair of latex gloves. “Just to be thorough, I’ll be doing a full body exam.” He was using his professional voice, the kind he used with kids or at military functions or...in the hospital.

“Does that include a prostate exam?” Kenny asked hopefully.

“In due time,” Butters said. He pulled a stethoscope from around his neck and put it on. “I need to listen to your heart. Sit up.”

Kenny sat up, wincing in pain. Butters rested beside him on the edge of the mattress.

“I’m going to undo your gown,” Butters announced.

Kenny chuffed. Butters pinched his ear before untying his collar. The gown fell down his shoulders to his waist.

The end of the stethoscope was icy-cold. Butters gave no warning this time, placing it directly above Kenny’s left nipple.

Butters asked Kenny to take a few deep breaths. Every time he moved the stethoscope, he deliberately brushed one of Kenny’s nipples with his thumb. When he moved to listen to Kenny’s back, he spread his big hand out on Kenny’s side to feel its rise and fall.

“You’re doing good,” Butters murmured absentmindedly.

He proceeded to take Kenny’s blood pressure, checked his reflexes, looked into his eyes with a flashlight, and palpitated all his lymph nodes. He got increasingly handsy, leaving Kenny shivering with anticipation for the next invasive touch; it contrasted nicely with his clinical procedures. Kenny didn’t mind being poked and prodded. He felt like a teddy bear, and Butters was playing doctor.

“Open up!”

Butters was suddenly in front of his face, shoving two gloved fingers into Kenny’s mouth. Kenny choked as Butters spread his fingers to feel Kenny’s teeth and peer at his uvula.

Butters removed his hand, a trail of spit following.

“Weirdo,” Kenny coughed. His throat felt hoarse and raw again.

Butters snapped the latex gloves off and tossed them into a trash can. “I’m basically done. All that’s left to check is penile function.”

“My penis better function fine,” Kenny said.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Butters said. He climbed onto the bed, bracketing Kenny’s hips with his knees.

Butters had that familiar freaky glint in his eyes. Kenny grinned toothily. He raised his hands to hold onto Butters’ short hair and pushed his head down.

Butters resisted and smacked Kenny’s hands away.

“Please don’t be a combative patient,” Butters said. “Everything is for the sake of your personal health.”

He optimized the point by squeezing Kenny’s dick.

Kenny went cross-eyed, mouth open in a silent gasp. “Okay,” he relented, loose-limbed, “do whatever you want.”

Butters hummed, and pumped his hand around Kenny’s shaft in a lazy fist.

Meanwhile the hospital gown tangled around Kenny’s waist, reduced to a sash now that he was practically naked. His erection bobbed against the fabric. It was skinny as the rest of him, but featured a healthy length and dusky rose head; precum leaked onto the folds of his gown.

Kenny began jerking his hips up to meet Butters’ fist, but every time their pace increased, Butters reeled them back. It was infuriating, and incredibly stimulating.

All the moving was sweeping Kenny into a vertigo-induced headache, which brought on bouts of nausea, and his ribs and chest and sides all flamed in painful protest. Nonetheless, Kenny continued his bodily undulations, melting into Butters’ touch, weight, and smell.

The bed began to creak, swinging connected wires.

Butters braced his hands against Kenny’s thin bare shoulders, seconds away from holding him down. “Relax,” Butters ordered. “Slow down.”

Kenny didn’t even care. He didn’t respond. He was alive! His dick was hard, and even if Butters wasn’t touching it anymore, he could still ram it against Butters’ thigh and stomach. It wasn’t comfortable for either of them, but Butters’ hands felt like two meaty anchors and Kenny was drowning under his touch. He came back to life and Butters was here and that’s all he ever needed.

The IV stand wobbled and fell over. Kenny yelped, stilling underneath Butters. His arm bled, the needle yanked out and on the floor.

Butters looked furious. His face was flat and dark as he stared at Kenny for a moment. Then he slid off the bed, righted the IV, and tended to Kenny’s arm.

“What’re you doing?” Kenny asked quietly. Clearly they were done. He pulled his gown back up, suddenly embarrassed and ashamed.

Butters sighed loudly but still didn’t say anything. He tucked Kenny into bed, like it was nighttime instead of seven in the morning, and injected a new needle into Kenny’s vein. With it came another wave of medication.

Kenny’s eyes drooped.

“I’ll be back tonight,” Butters said, and kissed Kenny’s forehead. Then he left.

 

 


End file.
